


Kitten

by Lykegenia



Series: Kitten - Cullen x Maighread Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Read the end notes they're important, Varric Tethras' Nicknames, Witty Banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11321841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lykegenia/pseuds/Lykegenia
Summary: With the Breach stabilised and the woman who closed it unconscious once again, everyone in Haven is on edge.A moment of camaraderie between Cullen and Varric, wherein Varric Knows Too Much, and Cullen has yet to realise he's In Trouble.





	Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give my Quiz a nickname. Or I wanted Varric to give my Quiz a nickname.
> 
> I swear I've seen the baby/puppy/kitten comparison somewhere before, but I couldn't find it (it's probably lurking on Tumblr). If anyone -does- come across it, I would be so grateful if you could send me the link.

Commander Cullen stood, arms crossed and feet planted, watching his soldiers train. It kept his mind occupied and his men distracted. Many of those tilting against the practice dummies on the shore of Haven’s lake were raw recruits, volunteers attracted from their lives as farmhands by the glamour of the Inquisition’s promise to save the world. As such, most of them had never held a sword in their lives, and it showed.

“You there!” he shouted. “There’s a shield in your hand – block with it! If that were a fireball, you’d be dead.” He scowled at the offending recruit, who jumped and flushed scarlet before nodding and readying himself for another attack.

“Well now, there’s a sight,” said a familiar, gravelly voice. Cullen turned to watch Varric saunter over, his eyes on the recruits in the speculative manner that usually meant he was after material for his next book. “You’ve certainly put fear of the Maker into them, Curly. Haven’t you maybe considered going a little easier? Give them time to celebrate.”

“They’ve had two days,” Cullen replied in clipped tones. “Without seasoned troops to back her up, Lady Montiliyet’s diplomatic efforts will be wasted. Besides,” he added, with a jut of his chin towards the Breach, “it keeps their minds off _that_.”

Varric rubbed a broad hand along his jaw. “You’ve got a point there.”

For a while they stood in not-quite-companionable silence, lulled by the rhythmic beat of the training patterns and by the hiss of windswept snow over the ice. Finally, the tense line of Cullen’s shoulders softened.

“Has there been any change?”

“Nah,” the dwarf replied. “At least, not so far as I can tell. Seeker’s trying to pretend everything’s alright, of course, and Chuckles is as talkative as ever, but believe me, if they’d managed to wake Kitten up, you can guarantee all of Haven would know about it.”

Cullen frowned. “I assume that’s another nickname?” As far as he could recall, the Herald’s name was Maighread.

“You got a problem with it?”

He shrugged and admitted, “It seems a little odd. I get ‘Seeker’ and ‘Ruffles’, and even – Andraste preserve me…” His hand drifted to the slicked-back mop of blond curls on top of his head. “But why ‘Kitten’?”

Varric smirked. “Because she’d look adorable curled up in somebody’s lap.”

That brought the scowl back, not least because speaking in such a way about a religious icon was tantamount to blasphemy. Unbidden, an image surfaced in his mind of the woman he had seen so tense and bristling on the mountain, with her legs folded and her head tucked in towards her chest, smiling softly, completely at ease. His arms almost itched with the phantom weight of her curled into his side, which was unexpected and entirely unwelcome, so he shoved the idle fantasy away.

“Andraste’s ass, Curly, I’m only pulling your leg. There’s no need to look at me like that.”

“If you don’t want to answer the question, you could just say so.”

“You’re no fun,” Varric told him. “But don’t you think it suits? Are you seriously telling me you don’t think she’s at least a little bit like an itty-bitty kitten?”

Cullen thought back to their encounter at the Temple, the crackle of lightning and the battle-snarl peeled over the Herald’s teeth.

“More like a lioness,” he chuckled. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” came the airy reply. “I just find that a very interesting choice of words coming from the man fabled as ‘the _Lion_ of the Inquisition’.”

“I know what you’re implying, dwarf, and I don’t like it,” Cullen growled. “Now if you’re finished, I have things to do.”

“And Hawke always said it was the scratchy Templar underwear that made you cranky.” When that jab failed to get a reaction, Varric decided to change tack. “Tell me, have you ever seen a human baby?”

“Have I ever …?” Cullen stared at him. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“Well, what does a baby do when something frightens it?” Varric asked, speaking as if his question were nothing more than a logical exercise. “It looks around for the nearest big thing to help it fix the problem. Now puppies –” he gave an expansive wave of his arm – “Puppies are something else. You put a big scary something in front of them, and they’re gonna roll over on their backs and grin and hope they’re too pathetic to kill. Tends not to work too well as a defence mechanism if there’s no momma dog to intervene, but hey, I guess that’s why dogs always come in packs.”

Cullen’s fingers started tapping on the pommel of his sword. “Get to the point.”

“The point is, Curly, cats are different.” Varric scratched his chin again. “Do you remember all the stray cats in Kirkwall? I saw more than my fair share of them, between one friend and another, and let me tell you, a kitten will fluff itself up, stand all alone against the world, and stare down a charging qunari if the situation calls for it.”

Silence fell between them again. He could see it now. When the fighting had died down and they all stood panting with the Fade rift just an emerald sheen in the air, and he had taken Cassandra aside and hissed _is she to be trusted, after what we saw?_ she had curled her lip in bitter self-mockery. _I’m told if I prove untrustworthy, it won’t be for long._ Then she had gritted her teeth, her left hand fisted at her side, and marched towards the ruins.

“I heard the Herald faced down Cassandra when she woke up the first time,” Cullen said now. “She didn’t even flinch. That’s much more impressive than a qunari.”

Chuckling, Varric nodded. “Mmhm. She’s got guts, that one. She’ll make it through this, don’t worry.” With one last rueful look at the sky, he turned to go, forcing his mind towards the stack of correspondence waiting for him from the Merchants Guild.

“Varric.”

He paused, turned to see the commander shift uncomfortably on his feet.

“Let me know if you hear anything.” It came out as an order, but Varric had spent years learning people, and he heard the note of genuine worry in that voice, even if Cullen failed to notice it himself.

“Sure thing, Curly. You’ll be the first to know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cullen thinks back to that day on quiet nights, when exhaustion leaves his eyes heavy, when Maighread dozes against his chest, her hands lightly fisted in his shirt and her breath easing against his neck in soft, even puffs. Moonlight drifts to them tangled together, either from the hole in his roof or the high glass doors that open her room to the sky, and his chest constricts at how impossible it all seems - that of all people, she lets _him_ see this side of her, trusts _him_ with her vulnerability. She shifts, groggy murmurs as she settles deeper against his arms, and he allows Varric one small, silent victory as her comfort pulls him into sleep: she is, when she deigns to show it, very much like a kitten after all.  
>  \--  
> Kudos and comment and I'll love you forever <3


End file.
